A Complexity of Blue
by TearCharmer
Summary: FINISHED. A prelude to Red Eye. After a childhood of loneliness, guilt, and misery, Jackson Rippner grew up to a world of nothing. He now lives for his job. Highprofile assassinations. Until one day, an assignment changes his life.
1. Chapter 1

Jackson Rippner had always been a complexity to the mind's eye. Deep within the crystal blue of his eyes, was his cut and dry personality that nobody could fathom. Everyone that knew him (or at least thought they knew him) were intimidated by his military-like stature and anyone that didn't know him, all they had to do was think of the name Jackson Rippner, and well, they got the picture, no visual required. But for Jackson, the outside world meant nothing. He hated a majority of society ever since he learned what it was to hate and be hated. After all, those who refer to you as 'Jack the Ripper', can't be someone worth associating with, right?

_Jack the Ripper. Jack the Ripper._

He'd been tormented a majority of his 34 years of life with that horrid nickname and he had nobody but his parents to thank. He always wondered what they were thinking, naming their only son after something so negatively symbolic. But, that was one of the many questions of his life that he never would know the answer to. His parents are now dead. And Jackson, left in a torrent of grief. Grief, not from their death itself but, because he didn't get that simple answer to that haunting question before he killed them.

_Why, Jack? Why? _

He quickly learned the hard way that people would always come and go from his life. But, even so, there was always one person that stuck by him. Bryan Greenley. Bryan was Jackson's childhood friend, his only friend. After the word got around that Bryan Greenley was hanging out with Jack the Ripper, it was pretty much a done deal that Bryan's social status, that was currently at a B average, had dropped to a Z average. From there on, they became one-hundred percent dependent on one another and lucky for Jackson, he didn't have to fight for Bryan's companionship. Everything finally seemed right in the world to Jackson Rippner. He may not have had friends, but he did have a friend that he could look to whenever he needed something. Perfect as it may seem, this two-celled friendship lasted for a good 3 years until the wave of high school and hormones hit, that is. They both soon came to realize that their minds didn't operate with the 'Ew, girls have cooties!' logic anymore and to their disadvantage, they found themselves falling for the same girl. A girl named Sasha Watts. Sasha was the intellectual type, very smart at that. Bryan and Jackson both were immediately attracted to that trait about her, as she was always beating them to answers in class. They would both secretly send her admiring stares whenever they could and when they finally revealed to each other about their 'secret crush', all hell broke lose. It turned into a never-ending battle of 'I'm going to get Sasha!' and a returned 'No, you're not! I am!' followed by immense cursing. Over a year's time, Bryan eventually got the girl. Jackson's bad luck had returned to him once again.

34 years old. 19 years later, Bryan and Sasha are happily married. They have one daughter, Emma, 4 years old, and another daughter on the way. Bryan works as head security for the White House and Sasha is a school teacher in West Virginia. That's pretty far compared to Jackson's life nowadays. Jackson's single with no kids. His profession? High-profile assassinations. The only thing Bryan and Jackson now had in common is that both of their professions were 'hush hush'. Bryan and Jackson barely spoke anymore. But, if Bryan had the slightest clue as to how much Jackson currently knew about him, he'd certainly be scared for his life. Bryan didn't even know what Jackson did for a living. He would ask on an occasion with the, "So, what are you doing with yourself these days?" but, Jackson would simply reply with "Just rotting my life away. You know, the usual,". Jackson was still sour towards Bryan. His anger and envy towards him had certainly grown over the past couple years when Jackson would start to compare their lives. He's got the girl. He's got the beautiful daughter. He's got the oversized house and cars. He's got one of the most high-paying jobs in the world. What doesn't Bryan Greenley have? This question made Jackson's blood boil; until he started thinking things.

_Charles Keefe. Deputy Secretary of Homeland Security. _

It was a job Jackson had been assigned just 46 hours ago; assassinate Charles Keefe. He had no idea why he was assigned to kill this man. But, it was part of his nature to get a job done and don't ask any questions. Just like every other time, that's exactly what he intended to do now. He procrastinated a bit, not even knowing where to begin with the assassination attempt. But, to Jackson, he may have just found his opportunity. How? A pawn. White House Head Security, Bryan Greenley.


	2. Chapter 2

Jackson's mind was on a rampage, like a fire fueled by thoughts to his newly-born plan. His eyes darted the ceiling of his 1-bedroom apartment, as a huge smirk took over his face. For the time being, he felt like a genius, yet at the same time, an idiot, for not seeing things sooner.

_Bryan Greenley._

"Why didn't I think of this before?" he thought to himself, amazed at the idea.

Being sure not to lose his train of thought, he logged onto his laptop and began fumbling around through programs. He opened up his digital address book and scanned through the huge collection of names, numbers, and addresses until he reached G. Gaye. _No._ Gettison. _No._ Gordon. _No._ Greenley. _Bingo. _He dragged his finger across the computer screen until it touched the digits to Bryan's phone number. Normally, he would have remembered those 10 digits. But, at a current standpoint, Jackson and Bryan hadn't talked for close to a year and after all that's been going on in his mind, to him, Bryan's phone number was just useless information cluttering his head. He picked up his phone and began dialing the numbers. 1. 4. 1. 0. 5. 5. He stopped. Just as fast as he picked up the phone, he quickly hung it up. His heart pounded wildly in his chest.

_What were you THINKING, Rippner?_He couldn't simply call Bryan and say, "Hey, I'm dragging you into an assassination attempt. Comply with me or you and your family are left with death as your only option." Yeah, that would fly. Jackson had to think way more in depth than he first presumed. He needed to have assistance, back up plans, everything and he couldn't let his mind get ahead of him again. There was no time for slip ups, especially when you're working with a man that's head security for the White House.

Jackson spent all night concocting plan, after plan, after plan. Just when he thought his plan couldn't be perfected anymore, he'd tweak another detail and turn it from a perfect plan to a foolproof plan. Just as he finished the very last detail, beams of sunlight began to silently peek in through his windows. Normally, Jackson was always fascinated by Texan sunrises but, not this morning. He had way too much on his mind, even with 0 hours of sleep. So instead of watching the sun rise, he walked to the bathroom and decided it was time to get ready. He had a long day and week ahead of him.

His sore feet touched the cold, tile floor of the bathroom, as he stared at his reflection in the mirror. Jackson was a handsome man with dark, auburn hair and piercing blue eyes that could drill a hole into anyone's soul. He'd recently lost a bit of his luster, as he had noticeable stubble growing around his strongly accented cheekbones and he was beginning to show his sleeplessness with the faintly visible bags under his sunken-in eyes. He turned the faucet on and began splashing ice cold water on his face. He was hoping it would wake him up just the slightest bit, but, no such luck. He combed his hair to the side with a right-center part. He'd always had his hair the same way since he was a little boy, back when his mom decided his hairstyle. He didn't bother changing it because it wasn't like he was trying to impress anybody. But, today, he didn't want to think back to his mom. Today, just wasn't the time. So, he very slowly, picked up the comb off the countertop and combed his hair in the opposite direction. He looked at himself for a moment.

_That'll do._

He set the comb back down just where he always kept it. Jackson picked up his tube of toothpaste and his worn out toothbrush. He began brushing his teeth when he was interrupted by a vibration in his pocket. _Cell phone_. Everybody owned a cell phone nowadays. But, Jackson rarely got phone calls, considering he didn't associate with many people and of those he associated with, only a select few knew his cell phone number. He was startled by the sudden disturbance in his pocket, as he took a spit into the sink. Who would call so early?

_Bzzzz. Bzzzz. Pause. Bzzzz Bzzzz. Pause._

He reached his hand into his pocket to pull it out. The phone felt like a trapped bee in his hand. He analyzed the number and his eyes drastically widened. He coughed and flipped open the phone to answer it.

"Hello?"

"Jackson. I was requested to call you in reference to case 29847," the deep, mysterious voice said.

_Case 29847… Keefe._

"The plan is in progress, sir. I'm intending on using Bryan Greenley, White House head security, in the case. I can use him to get information as to where Keefe will be staying. I'm flying out today to stay with Greenley. I'm afraid I'll need some assistance though."

"You're using your friend to your advantage? I like how you think, Jackson. What kind of assistance?"

"Well, it's a matter of leverage to get Greenley out of the house, once I arrive there, sir. I need someone to tap into the phone line between Greenley and the White House. Someone must call exactly at the time given and pretend there is an emergency at the White House that Bryan must immediately attend to. I stay at his house and plant microscopic tracking devices all throughout the house, making sure nobody leaves. A few men on standby outside the house would be very beneficial."

"How exactly is this going to get case 29847 out of the picture?"

"I have it all figured out, sir. Don't worry about me," Jackson replied, very professionally.

"Very well, Jackson. I'm trusting you. I'll have my other men behind this plan. But, if in the end this plan of yours doesn't work and it isn't 29847's life, it will be your own. Consider that."

_Click._

Jackson stood there for a moment with the phone up to his ear.

_If it isn't 29847's life, it will be your own._

In stunned silence, he slowly took the phone away from his ear and closed it. If ice cold water on your face won't wake you up, that statement in itself certainly would. For the third time, he stared at his reflection in the mirror for a couple moments before gathering the energy to leave.

_Okay, Jackson. Let's go._

He grabbed his computer bag and stuffed his microscopic tracking devices into his pocket. He began destroying his plans and stuffing those in his bag along with an invisible ink highlighter.

"Thank God for invisible ink, making my plans invisible," he thought.

He walked towards the door and turned around. He took one look around to do a mental recap to make sure he wasn't leaving without anything important. He opened the door, locked it, and closed it shut behind him. Jackson walked to his car and threw his computer bag in the backseat and turned on the ignition. He took one last look at his apartment and drove down the highway to Dallas International Airport.

Somewhere in Maryland, an unsuspecting Bryan Greenley was just waking up, not knowing that he would soon be in for the ride of his life. Hopefully, Mr. Greenley likes surprise visitors because he was getting one today, whether he liked it or not.


	3. Chapter 3

Jackson spent an hour driving down the interstate towards Dallas International, letting the neighborhoods he knew fade behind him into the rear-view mirror. He was truly lucky he didn't fall asleep behind the wheel, as tired as he was. That wouldn't have been helpful towards '29847' and his life wouldn't exactly benefit from a car crash either.

_If it isn't 29847's life, it will be your own._

He arrived at Dallas International at exactly 8:13am, carrying nothing but the same computer bag, the ever-so-important tracking devices and his wallet, which he always kept with him anyway, just like his cell phone. To Jackson's surprise, there was no line to buy plane tickets and that shocked him. Dallas International always had lines every time he'd been there, but yet again, he'd never been there at 8:13, now 8:14, in the morning. He walked up to the sales clerk for Fresh Air Airlines, who was busily organizing paperwork, plane stubs, and the like, as she looked up at Jackson.

"Hello sir, how can I help you this morning?" she asked in the most charming voice and smiled.

Jackson always wondered how people could be so perky first thing in the morning, especially with a job like hers.

"Hi, I was interested in buying a single to Baltimore, Maryland. BWI, preferably," Jackson said, trying to return the pleasant attitude.

"Okay," she said pausing and looking towards her computer. "Let me check for you."

There was a moment of silence between the two of them, as the sales clerk typed away on her computer and Jackson began gazing around the airport lobby. He noticed a majority of the people were businessmen and women. That was good for Jackson's case because he planned to sleep on the plane and the last thing he wanted was a whiney little kid sitting by him. But, by the way Jackson's luck was going this morning, it was bound to happen anyway.

"Okay, sir," the woman interrupted, as Jackson turned his focus back to her. "The following times are available to Baltimore. 9:15am, 12:45pm, 3 o'clock, 6:30pm, and 9 o'clock."

Jackson looked at his watch. 8:17.

"Would I be able to make it through security to catch the 9:15 flight?"

"If all you're planning on bringing with you is that computer bag, I would imagine so. The security checkpoints get slowed down when people have a lot of bags with them. But, I can't guarantee you won't run into a few people like that while you're waiting in line. It might be a risk to take 9:15."

Jackson thought for a moment. He figured he'd take the 9:15 flight anyway. He didn't have time to sit in the airport for another 3 and a half hours for the 12:45 flight. If he got held up in the security line, he figured he'd charm his way in front of a few people. That could always work.

"I believe I'll take the 9:15 flight. I can't stay until 12:45. That's too late for me, thanks," Jackson replied.

"Okay, sir. For roundtrip, nonstop tickets to Baltimore, your total comes to $443.26."

"Christ! Why so much money?"

"The world we live in nowadays, I fear. Airline prices are quite crazy. But, I guarantee you none of the other airlines are any better for prices."

"Well, I'll trust your word."

Reluctantly, he reached into his pocket and pulled out his money. Jackson called it 'dirty money', considering he got it from payoffs of other successful assassinations. He handed her four hundreds and a fifty, as the woman had a shocked look on her face.

"Is something wrong?" Jackson sarcastically questioned her.

"No, no," she said, taking the money from his hand. "It's just, very rarely do people pay for tickets in cash."

"I see. Well, I guess I'm one of the rarities, then, eh?"

The woman just smiled, as she ripped the printout of his ticket and got him change.

"Here's your ticket and $1.74 is your change. Your flight number is 1468. Your departure gate is 14B. Once you go through the security gate to your left, walk all the way down the long, open hallway. There are over-hangings with terminal numbers. 14B is all the way down at the end on your right."

"Thank you," Jackson paused to look at her name tag. "Kelly."

"Thank you for flying with us, sir," she responded, as Jackson quickly walked off to the security check.

His feet pounded hardly on the hard tile floor, as he briskly walked to get a good spot in the checkpoint line. Once he arrived, there were 8 people in front of him. Jackson gave each of them a look over and decided it would be no time at all, considering they all had carry-on bags like he did and none seemed to have a lot of bags, like Kelly had warned him about. Jackson stood with his arms crossed and his feet pointed straight ahead. He looked like a statue almost, as for the time being, he showed no emotion. He just watched as the young security guards scanned everyone's things and feasted their eyes on everyone's personal business. It really annoyed him. If it wasn't for today's age, he wouldn't be standing in line right now, frantically looking at his watch to make sure he caught his flight on time. But, he had no power or control over what went on.

"Thank you, Mr. Keefe," Jackson sarcastically thought in his mind.

The line continued to move up at a fairly decent pace and at 8:59, Jackson finally got his turn. He placed his computer bag, wallet, cell phone, and watch on the scanner and watched them disappear into the metal machine. Jackson stepped through the metal detector. _Left foot. Right foot. Left foot._

_Beep beep beep beep beep._

"Please step back, sir. Arms above your head," the security guard said.

Jackson did as told and raised his arms above his head. Out of the corner of his eye, he watched as the paddle mimicked every curve of his body.

_Beep beep beep._

The paddle had stopped at his left pocket.

"Shit! The tracking devices," Jackson frantically thought.

The security guard stared at Jackson waiting for an explanation.

"I have a metal hip," he lied. "I went into war when I was 18 and had to have my hip operated on when I got injured. They couldn't fix it, so, I had to have it replaced."

"Do you have any paperwork documenting this, sir?"

"No, not on me, no. I was just trying to catch the 9:15 flight to Baltimore to visit with family," he lied some more.

_What is up with you, Jackson? Where'd you learn to lie like this?_The security guard patted Jackson's left side but stopped, when he heard the crinkle of plastic in his pocket.

_Shit, shit, shit._

"Would you mind showing me what's in your pocket?" he sarcastically asked Jackson.

The airport intercom came on.

"Flight 1468 at terminal 14B is now boarding."

"Sure," Jackson replied, on the verge of a nervous breakdown.

He pulled the bag out of his pocket and showed it to the security guard. Jackson certainly knew what it was. But to the security guard, it looked like an empty plastic bag full of air.

"I'm very spiritual, you see. I almost lost my life at war and when my mother passed away, I was right at her bedside. I captured her last breath in this bag and I take it wherever I go."

"I'm very sorry, sir," the security guard replied, scanning his left hip again.

_Beep beep beep._

Jackson, in his mind, didn't know what was going on. The tracking devices were out of his pocket so, why was the scanner still going off? He kept thinking and thinking. Why? _Bingo._ One must have fallen out of the bag when he was running to the line.

"Come ON!" one older woman complained, shouting it at the security guard.

"Yeah! HURRY UP, WILL YA?" another shouted.

The intercom came on once again.

"Last call for flight 1468 at terminal 14B. Fresh Air. Last call."

"Okay, sir. I'll let you pass this time. Just next time, make sure you have paperwork with you for proof. It will avoid any further complications."

"I certainly will. Thank you," he said very quickly.

Jackson frantically grabbed his things from the scanner. He put his watch back on and put the tracking devices, his cell phone, and his wallet back in his pockets. Casually, he slipped the strap of the computer bag back on his shoulder to avoid anymore suspiciousness of his character. He glanced at his watch.

_9:14._

He ran down the long hallway passing each terminal sign with the blink of an eye.

_8A. 8B. 10A. 10B.  
_

The seconds were ticking down for Jackson Rippner. With adrenaline pumping through his veins, the million dollar question now, wasn't how he was going to kill Charles Keefe, but, would he make his flight?


	4. Chapter 4

His heart was pounding out of his chest. He couldn't miss that flight. His life depended on it.

"STOP!" he shouted as he reached 14B. "I need to get on that flight!"

"Do you have your boarding pass, sir?" asked a woman standing behind the desk at the terminal, as Jackson was about to run past her.

He stopped to look at her. "My boarding pass?"

"Your ticket, sir," she said, becoming frustrated.

"Oh yes. Right," Jackson said with a weak smile, snapping back into reality, as he pulled the ticket out of his computer bag pocket.

"Okay," she said, ripping a portion off the ticket. "Show this to the man over there where you board. Have a nice flight."

"Yeah, thanks," he replied hesitantly.

_So, that was it? I've made it onto the flight. That simple?_

Jackson shook the question off. It didn't matter. He was now on flight 1468 heading to Baltimore.

_Sigh._

He stepped onto the plane and looked at his ticket. 12D. He scanned the seats for a label that matched the sequence on his ticket. After a few moments of searching, he finally found row 12. He looked over to scan the seats.

_A. B. C_. _D_.

"Oh great," he thought. "I get the inner seat. Surrounded by people." He gave the woman in 12C a casual glance as he proceeded to put his computer bag in the overhead storage. She stared at him with a curious stare but, soon returned down to her newspaper, with a smile on her face. Jackson was fully aware of the attention he was receiving.

"Excuse me," he said as kindly as possible.

"Oh, sure thing," she said, standing up and letting Jackson scoot by her.

_  
_He brushed past her and sat down in his seat. Jackson began adjusting himself for the 3 hour flight, buckling his seatbelt, when the woman interrupted.

"Hi, I'm Sandra. I see we're going to be seat buddies," she said, chuckling. "Nice to meet you," she continued, sticking out a hand to shake his. The plane began to take off down the runway.

"Jackson. Pleased to meet you," he returned, staring straight ahead at the television screens displaying 'Fresh Air'.

"Where in Maryland are you headed to?"

"To visit family, in western Maryland," he said, continuing to lie with the family scenario. "You?"

"Oh, me? I'm headed to Columbia. I work for a hotel called Lux Atlantic in Miami, Florida. I don't know if you've ever heard of it," she replied.

"Nope, I can't say I have. I don't get over to Florida too much," Jackson replied, less and less engaged in the conversation by the second.

"I see. Well, the hotel is under new management recently. A new woman named Lisa Reisert. Things were looking promising. Hotel profit sky-rocketed. And just yesterday, Lisa had a death in the family. She had to leave Miami and come attend the funeral in Texas and stay with relatives. I was sent there to help her cope a little until she returns home on Friday. But, that's beside the point," she paused. "I'm headed to Columbia to a meeting of interests in stocks from the Lux Hotel. Get some investments. Maybe get a couple more hotels put up along the eastern seaboard. I'm a behind-the-scenes businesswoman, myself." 

Jackson felt the plane take off the ground.

"Very interesting. I wish you and the hotel the best. As for me, I think I'm going to get some sleep. I didn't sleep at all last night. You don't mind, do you?" Jackson questioned, hoping she'd stop talking.

"Oh, not at all. But, before you go to sleep, I just wanted to tell you that you have amazing blue eyes. I'm sure you hear that a lot," she said, gazing deeply at him.

"Thank you, Sandra," he said, as he smiled as realistically as possible.

"Night, Jackson," she said, returning her attention back to her newspaper situated on her lap.

"Night."

Soon, Jackson was out like a light but, he didn't get the sleep he intended. He didn't sleep well at all, in fact.

_And just yesterday, Lisa had a death in the family._

Jackson's head became clouded with thoughts of him killing his mother and father, which made him rather violent in his sleep. He began punching things and kicking things in a state of unawareness. He started cursing, shouting, and screaming until he was awakened by an outside force. He was being shaken. He slowly lifted his eyelids and looked around. He was still on the airplane; everything was silent. They had landed. Jackson continued to look around until he noticed all eyes were on him. Some people had their hands clasped over their mouths. Some people looked like their eyes were about to bulge out of their heads. He didn't understand what was happening or what had happened until he looked down and saw his hands covered in blood. He jumped up out of his seat and frantically looked around again. His eyes hit Sandra's seat. It was empty. She was gone. The only thing that now occupied the seat of 12C was the blood stains that had been absorbed into the matted fabric.

_What have I done?_


	5. Chapter 5

_What have I done? Jesus Christ, what have I done?_

He had no idea what was going on. It felt like a bad nightmare that he couldn't wake up from. Everyone was still staring at him and he felt hopelessly trapped. He just stared at his bloody palms with a blank stare, contemplating on what to do.

"These aren't my hands," he said to himself. "Not mine. Not Jackson Rippner's."

Jackson was on the verge of going on a rampage. He couldn't stand this attention; not unless he knew what had happened and why his hands were stained this horrible crimson. He quickly busted to the aisle and ran towards the back of the plane to the stewardess' station. Maybe, just maybe, he'd get an answer to what happened and he could clear this clutter from his head. Jackson felt everyone's eyes stay pinned to his figure as he ran. He pushed the curtain aside and almost had a heart attack.

"SANDRA! You're… you're… alive!"

"Oh, hello Jackson," she said in a nasally tone as she held an ice pack up to her nose.

"What did I… I thought that… you were…" He paused in stunned silence.

_She's alive. SHE'S ALIVE._

Sandra had bruises all over her face. Just like Jackson's palms, her face was stained in blood.

"What happened?" Jackson continued, trying to catch his breath from the shockwaves sent through his body.

"You must have had one hell of a nightmare and mistaken me for somebody else, somebody you must really hate. You started grabbing at me and punching me in your sleep. You punched my nose," Sandra paused, slouching down onto the floor, as she winced in pain. "I think it's broken now."

"Oh dear god, Sandra. I am so sorry. I… what can I do to ever repay for this? I have money, if you want money," he said, pulling his wallet out of his pocket.

"I don't want your money, Jackson. Just watch yourself when you fall asleep on a plane next time," she said, becoming more and more irritated.

Jackson felt so embarrassed. In addition to beating up a fellow passenger, what happened if he revealed _something _in his sleep? Something about his past? Something pertaining to case 29847? That thought scared him and he had enough of scaring himself today, considering how much he had already. Stuck in complete silence, he turned to the sink behind him and thoroughly washed his hands to remove all of the horrid color.

"Is there anything I can do for you before I leave?" he asked, drying his hands with one too many paper towels. 

"Just pretend like this didn't happen. That'll work for me."

"I think I can manage that," Jackson said, managing to crack a smile. "Well, I guess this is goodbye, Sandra?"

"Goodbye, Jackson," she said as animate as possible with the ice shoved up to her nose.

Jackson smiled at her one last time and began to walk back to get his bag when she stopped him.

"Oh, Jackson," she said, questioningly. 

"Yeah?"

"Have fun with your family too," she said, trying to smile.

"Have fun at your business meeting," Jackson replied and walked back through the curtains.

_That was the oddest moment of my life._

He very casually walked out from behind the curtain, like he had promised to Sandra. Everyone was standing up now. Passengers were busy away stretching their legs and grabbing their carry-on bags from the storage but, Jackson certainly didn't go unnoticed.

_Blood? What blood? The woman in 12C? What woman in 12C?_

Yeah, he could play that role with no problem. He did it a lot. His job was high-profile assassinations, for god's sake. But, the passengers didn't need to know that either. He quickly grabbed his computer bag from the overhead storage and looked down one last time at 12C. Jackson shivered and got the hell out of there. He busted past passenger, after passenger until he finally got inside BWI airport and let out a sigh of relief.

_I'm here. I made it._

Jackson scanned the airport for an empty seat to sit down for a minute. Before anything else, he needed to call 'the boss' and check on his back up. Jackson knew without back up, his plan was over and if his plan was over, so was his life. He reached into his pocket and took out his cell phone. He checked his recent received calls and found the number he was looking for. He dialed it. Jackson always felt intimidated by his boss and his heart, once again, started pounding nervously in his chest.

"Talk to me," the deep voice answered.

"I've arrived in Baltimore. I'm sitting in the airport now. Soon, I'll be on the way to Bryan's house," his voice trailed off as he got up to find a more secluded location. "Have you found any back up?"

"Two people. Joe and Alex. They're stationed around Bryan's house right now," the man answered.

"How did they know where Bryan lives?"

"There are a lot of things my men know."

_It was answers like that that made Jackson even more intimidated._

"What about the phone line and the phone call to Bryan?" Jackson continued.

"Taken care of. When you want the call, signal to Joe or Alex. Or use your cell phone to call one of them."

"Okay."

"Get the job done, Jackson. Remember what I told you."

_Click._

He hated when their conversations ended on such a threatening note. He had enough stress going on right now with the current situation and then the boss had to add more. He slapped his phone shut and returned it to his pocket. He just stood there for a moment, absorbing his surroundings. After gathering up the courage, he began walking towards the exit of the airport. His eyes darted from restaurant to restaurant and terminal to terminal until he stopped dead in his tracks.

_Beep beep beep._

It was the unmistakable beeping of a metal detector. Jackson looked straight ahead and sure enough, a security check was dead ahead of him. After all the shocks this morning had brought him, he completely forgot about a security check leaving the airport.

"Shit, not again," he thought to himself, staring at a security guard as he ran his detector along a man's side.

_Injured at wartime._ _Metal hip. Just do it._

"Okay, I think I can play with these morons again."

Taking a deep breath, Jackson started walking again towards the security check. The only part of his luck today was that he didn't have to wait in ridiculous lines to get through the check. In the Dallas airport, he had 8 people in front of him. Now, he only had 5. He patiently waited for his turn while he went over his lines and the BSing he had to do again. It reached his turn and he placed his computer bag, cell phone, wallet, and watch into the scanner.

"Well, isn't this a déjà vu," he thought to himself, sarcastically.

Jackson proceeded to step through the detector. _Left foot. Right foot. Left foot._

He was now on the other side of the detector and he hadn't heard a single beep. The alarm didn't go off. Pretending nothing odd was going on, he grabbed his things from the scanner and walked away. A safe distance away from the security guards, he slipped his hand into his left pocket.

_The tracking devices._

They were gone. His left pocket was empty. He frantically checked his right pocket. His wallet and his cell phone were safely tucked inside. He checked everything he owned. Jackson looked inside every pocket of his computer bag, even though he knew there was no chance they were in there. Everything was in place except for the tracking devices. If they weren't in his pocket where he put them, then where were they?

_The plane. They're on that fucking plane._

"They must have fallen out of my pocket in my sleep," he paused on the verge of kicking the wall behind him. "This day fucking HATES ME!"

He began to rant in his head, standing in the airport lobby trying to figure out what to do. He couldn't get back on that plane and he was already in Baltimore. Joe and Alex were waiting on his arrival and he still had to call Bryan to tell him that he was stopping by for a little visit. But gradually, a villainous smile crept onto Jackson's face.

"Well, there's always plan B…"

When there's a plan A, there's always a plan B to Jackson Rippner. Sometimes, even he fails to remember that. In his current scenario, he no longer had a plan A. He no longer had 2 options. There may be more potential bloodshed involved with plan B, but what other options did he now have? None. Stick to your ideology, Jackson.

_Get a job done and don't ask any questions._

And even now, that's exactly what he intended to do. Jackson proceeded to walk out of the airport, leaving the noise, confusion and frustration behind him. Once safely outside, he took his cell phone out of his pocket and began dialing the digits of Bryan's phone number.


	6. Chapter 6

"Hello?" Bryan said.

There was an awkward silence on the line, as Bryan repeated himself.

"Hello?"

_Talk, Jackson! Damn it!_

"Hey Bryan. It's Jackson."

"Jackson! How's it goin', man! We haven't talked in ages. I thought something happened to ya!"

"Then, why didn't you call me, asshole?" Jackson mumbled under his breath.

"What was that, Jackson? I couldn't hear you."

"Oh nothing. There's a lot of commotion around here, which brings me to why I called you. I'm in town and I was wondering if I could stop by? Just to hang out and chat? Catch up on life?" _Kill you?_ He paused, fearing he was going to accidentally slip some of the thoughts he was currently thinking. He continued. "You know?"

"Yeah, sure! You can stop by. I'll be here. You picked the perfect timing. I'm on vacation right now so; I don't have to worry about work. Do you have directions or an address?"

_You'll be going to work anyway, Mr. Greenley._ "Let's see… I have an address. But, no directions. It doesn't matter though. I'm taking a taxi. I'll just tell them the address and they should be able to get me there just fine," Jackson replied.

"Right. Okay. I'll see you in a bit, then?"

"Okay."

"Bye Jackson."

"Bye."

_Click._

"Well, that went well," Jackson thought. "One thing I've finally done right today."

_One obstacle down._**  
**  
He put his cell phone away and searched around for a vacant taxi.

"TAXI!" he shouted waving his hands, as one pulled up to the curbside.

He opened the door and slid into the backseat.

"Where to, sir?" the old male driver said to Jackson, as he slammed the door shut.

"10795 Appalachian Lane. Cumberland, MD. Woodland Estate."

The driver nodded and began to drive away from the airport. Jackson looked out the window and watched the airport rush past him in a blur. He felt like he was leaving the bad luck of this morning behind him in that airport. But, he'd been wrong many times before.

He took his computer bag off his shoulder and set it on the leather seat next to him. He tried to relax with all the energy left in him but, he couldn't. Jackson just continued to stare out the window until he gradually fell back asleep. This time, he slept in peace and got the sleep he needed ever so much.

"Sir…"

Jackson opened his eyes and squinted at the man driving the taxi.

"Mmhmm?"

"We've arrived at Woodland Estate."

Jackson instantly woke up.

"How much do I owe you?"

"$86.59."

Jackson pulled his wallet out of his pocket and removed a hundred dollar bill. He handed it to the man.

"Keep the change."

"Thank you, sir," the man said, shocked.

"No, thank YOU."

Jackson grabbed his computer bag and stepped out of the car.

"You have a nice day now," the man shouted out the window out of the window and he drove away down the paved driveway.

_Where the hell am I?_

To Jackson, it looked like he was in the middle of nowhere. He was surrounded by trees and forest. There was a paved driveway that led him from the direction he came, which was who knows where. But, there was a huge iron gate before him with a callbox. 

"At least there's civilization," he thought, jokingly.

There was a clearing where you could see part of Bryan's house. But, it wasn't exactly a house. More like a mansion. He could see huge white pillars peeking through the clustering of large oak trees.

"He must have a lot more money than I imagined," Jackson said, causing his currently calm nerves to be angered again.

He pressed the button on the callbox, waiting for an answer.

"Hello?"

"It's Jackson."

"Welcome Jackson!" Bryan said, as the huge iron gates swung open.

He took a huge breath and began to walk up to the house. He followed the paved driveway around many turns, in between tree after tree. That was when he saw it. The huge mansion that belonged to the Greenley's. It was breathtaking, even to Jackson, someone who had immense hate towards Bryan. Huge white pillars greeted him at the front door. All 8 sides of the house were decorated with a variety of plants and shrubs and there were so many windows that Jackson couldn't even begin to guess how many rooms were inside. It was truly stunning. Jackson slowly walked up the steps to the mansion, trying to take it all in. All of the sudden, he heard rustling in the bushes behind him.

"Psssstt. Jackson."

It was Alex. Jackson looked at him with a question look.

"I've got the front. Joe's got the back," he said in a raspy whisper.

Jackson signaled a 10-4 with his fingers. Then, it really hit him what he was preparing to do. Once again, his rapid heartbeat returned to him and he could feel the adrenaline pumping throughout his body.

_This was it._

He walked up to the door and took the huge, iron knocker into his hand. He knocked on the door on the door. Jackson waited a few moments until the huge, wooden door peeked open.

"Well, Jackson Rippner is it?" said a female voice that once again brought Jackson back to his childhood.

"Hello," Jackson paused, on the verge of dying inside. "Sasha."


	7. Chapter 7

"You haven't changed one bit," Sasha said, looking Jackson over and then focusing back on his blue eyes that seemed to be hypnotizing her.

"Neither have you," Jackson spat back. _Besides the fact that you're visibly pregnant._

They both stood there in an awkward silence, just looking at each other.

"Am I allowed in or should I take this as a no?" he sarcastically asked her.

"I want to know what you're doing here,"

"I was in town and I've stopped by to sit and have a talk with Bryan. Hang out, like guys do. Do you have a problem Mrs. Greenley?"

"Something tells me otherwise. That's my problem, Mr. Rippner."

She quickly threw open the door and walked away, leaving Jackson stand at the now fully open front door.

_She doesn't know a damn thing. Shake it off._

"So much for a warm welcome," Jackson thought, stepping inside the house and shutting the huge door behind him.

"Bryan, my man!" Bryan shouted as he walked into the main foyer where Jackson was standing.

Sasha said that he hadn't changed one bit but, neither had Bryan. He didn't look any different than Jackson remembered him from 19 years ago. He still had the same short golden brown hair and green eyes. He was still as skinny as Jackson, just about 3 inches taller. Jackson had a hard time believe that the Bryan Greenley he was seeing before him was White House head security material.

"How've you been!" Bryan said, giving Jackson a huge, manly hug.

**  
**"I've been good. Just living life, ya know."

"Good to hear, good to hear. I'm guessing Sasha let you in. I was outback and I guess I didn't hear the door."

_You knew I was coming, asshole. _"Oh, that's okay. All I did was get bashed at the front door." Jackson said sarcastically.

"I'm sorry about her. She's leaving anyway. In a couple minutes actually. God damn, it's already 4. She has a teacher's convention in West Virginia she has to go to. Emma's at an aunt's house. I've got the whole house to myself. We can just hang out here for a bit. Here, let's go into the kitchen and make up some drinks. You want me to take that bag for you?"

"No, that's okay. I'm fine."

They started walking to the kitchen, which seemed a mile away. The house was even bigger from the inside. It consisted of a huge, open floor plan with hardwood floors. The house was centered around a huge, spiral staircase that led to who knows how many floors. A majority of the rooms didn't have doors to separate into the next room and as far as Jackson could see, all the rooms were white, with very little color.

_How dysfunctional._

"You have a very nice house," Jackson said randomly, as they finally reached the kitchen.

"Thanks, Jack. It took about 3 years to build. It was all we ever wanted in a house."

_Don't. Call. Me. Jack._

Jackson's temper was quickly thinning but, he was trying his best to stifle it.

"What'll ya have?" Bryan asked him.

"I'll just take a rum and coke," Jackson replied sitting down on a barstool.

"Rum and coke it is."

Bryan turned his back to Jackson to grab the coke out of the fridge and the rum out of the cabinet. Jackson began looking around, analyzing his surroundings. He looked over to the living room and saw a giant gun safe with a huge glass front. Bryan kept a nice collection of revolvers and shotguns. He noticed the safe had a key lock on it.

"Oh, come on, Bryan," Jackson thought to himself. "A _key lock_? You're making my job too easy."

He continued looking around until his eyes came back to the counter that he was sitting at. He noticed a dish of pennies on the end of the counter by a stack of paperwork and envelopes. Everything looked to be in place but, if it wasn't for Jackson's observant eye, he wouldn't have noticed a portion of a brass key hidden in the pile of pennies.

_You just made my job from easy to easier._

Bryan and Jackson both turned their heads to the living room when they heard heels clinking across the floor.

"I'm leaving now, honey," Sasha said, as she reached the kitchen.

"Okay," he replied, setting the coke bottle down on the counter.

Sasha dropped her bags and Bryan walked over to Sasha to give her a hug and kiss goodbye. Jackson just looked the French glass doors leading outside. The last thing he wanted to do was watch Bryan and Sasha kiss. It angered him beyond belief. After he was sure that they had stopped, Jackson returned his attention to them. Sasha just looked at Jackson but, then walked over to him.

_Oh great._

Jackson stood up, as Sasha gave him a hug.

"Nice seeing you again, Jackson," she whispered in his ear and walked back to pick up her bags.

_I hate mixed signals._

"Bye boys," she said to both of them and walked towards the front door.

Bryan and Jackson both acted like nothing happened, as Bryan handed him his rum and coke. Soon after, he fixed a drink for himself and took a seat at a barstool next to Jackson.

"So, what have you been doing with yourself lately?" Bryan asked.

"Just rotting my life away, you know. The usual," Jackson replied as he always did.

"You always say that, Jackson,"

Jackson spotted Joe outside the French door and in secret code, signaled for the call. Two seconds later, Bryan's cell phone started ringing, just as planned. Bryan took his cell phone out of his belt clip and looked at the number.

"Excuse me a moment," Bryan said, as he quickly walked out of the room.

Jackson took one last sip of his rum and coke.

_It's showtime._

He looked around the doorway to make sure that Bryan was nowhere in sight. Jackson began digging through the penny dish until he felt the brass key and grabbed it. He held it in his hand and ran over to the gun safe in the living room. Frantically looking around, he stuck the key in the door, and to his surprise, it actually opened. He grabbed a revolver and stuck it in his inner coat pocket. Then, he heard footsteps.

_SHIT. SHIT. SHIT._

He put the guns back where they were and closed the door. He turned the key to lock it and then the footsteps stopped.

"Jackson. What are you doing with my gun safe?"

"I was just looking at your collection. It's quite nice," Jackson said nervously.

Jackson still had the key is his hand and he went to slip it in his pocket. But, under the sweatiness of his palms, he missed his pocket and key fell to the floor with a _cling_. Bryan's eyes fell with the key.


	8. Chapter 8

"What in the hell do you think you're doing?" Bryan said on the verge of shouting, looking back up at Jackson.

Jackson paused to pull the revolver out of his pocket and pointed it at Bryan.

"I don't _think._ I _know_ what I'm doing, just to fix your question. But then, you don't have much a question, do you?" Jackson said, letting a villainous tone take over his voice. "You wanna chat, Bryan? Let's have a little chat. But to make things interesting, know now that your life and Sasha's life are on the line with your every move and word. Take a seat."

"What are you talking abo..."

"SIT or I'll pull this fucking trigger."

"Okay okay, calm down. I'm sitting."

Jackson bent down to pick up the key that caused this sudden rush of authority and put it in his pocket without missing this time. He walked over closer to Bryan, still aiming the gun at him but, still keeping his distance.

"Okay. Here's the deal, Bryan. You have information that I need. If you comply and get the information for me, no harm done. If you don't, well, I'm afraid to speak of the consequences. Got me?"

Bryan just sat with a dazed look at Jackson. He had no idea what was going on.

"What information are you talking about, Jackson?"

"I'm glad you asked. Information on a certain political figure that you know very well. Charles Keefe. Information on his whereabouts over the next week."

"Why is god's name do you need to know that?"

Jackson unlocked the gun.

"I said, let's have a chat, Bryan. Not, 'let's play 21 questions, with Jackson'. Would you like to continue?" he asked pointing the gun closer to Bryan's head.

"No," Bryan said flatly.

"Good to hear. Good to hear," Jackson replied. "Now, are you going to help your friend or are you going to make things difficult for you and I both?"

There was a silence between them as Bryan looked at the anger in his eyes.

"BRYAN," Jackson shouted.

"I'll help you," Bryan mumbled.

"What was that?"

"I'LL HELP YOU," he shouted at Jackson.

"Good. Now tell me what I need to know," Jackson ordered.

"I don't know that off the top of my head. I'm security for the White House. Not Keefe's personal assistant."

"Then, how in the hell are you planning on helping me, Bryan?" Jackson asked, becoming more and more frustrated.

There was a slight pause, as Jackson waited for an answer.

"I'm not."

Bryan suddenly punched Jackson, sending him to the floor. Bryan ran upstairs to the 2nd floor of the house to the master bedroom. Jackson, gaining the energy stood back up and started running after Bryan. He quickly unlocked the front door and dialed Joe's cell phone number, as he ran up the stairs.

"Yeah?" Joe answered.

"I NEED BACKUP. NOW. GET ALEX TOO. FRONT DOOR'S UNLOCKED," Jackson shouted into the phone and abruptly hung it up. Jackson ran up the stairs, finding himself in all new territory, in a whole new set of rooms.

"You can't hide from me, Bryan. You may be security for the White House. But, does it look like you've got me intimidated?"

Jackson paced up and down the hallway with his gun pointed in various directions, briskly kicking opening doors to each room. Then, out of the doorway to Jackson's left, came Bryan.

"I wasn't trying to intimidate you," he said pointing his own gun at Jackson. "I was putting you in your place. You're in my house."

Bryan began walking towards Jackson and Jackson walking backwards towards the stairs. Jackson still had his gun pointed at Bryan but, he knew it didn't serve much of a purpose, considering Bryan had one too. They stopped at the stairs with their guns still pointed at each other.

"Leave and get out of my house," Bryan ordered to Jackson.

"LET ME GO!" Jackson suddenly heard somebody scream at the bottom of the steps.

They both heard feet walking up the steps and slowly, Alex and Joe appeared with a terrified Sasha.

"I SAID LET ME GO!" She screamed as she tried to squirm out of the rough handling of Alex and Joe.

Jackson turned back to Bryan and just absorbed the terror that had now returned to his face.

"Sure, I'll get out of your house, Bryan," Jackson said, smirking. "But, I'm not leaving until I get the information I came here for. Even if it's a matter of leverage," he continued, turning to look at Sasha.


	9. Chapter 9

Bryan's eyes quickly turned dull and weary, as they darted between Jackson and Sasha.

"So, what's it going to be Mr. Greenley? Because, I don't have the time for anymore rash action stunts like what just happened in the living room," Jackson said, grabbing Sasha's face and turning his attention back to Bryan. "Drop the gun. Now."

"DON'T YOU DARE HURT HER!" Bryan shouted at Jackson, as his shaky hand dropped the gun to the floor.

Jackson bent down to pick it up and put it in his coat pocket where he originally had his other gun.

"So, I'm going to ask you the same question. How are you going to help me? And the answer better be more pleasing than last time," he threatened.

"I'll help you. I'll help you. Just… please don't hurt Sasha. She's not a part of this."

"That doesn't answer my question, Bryan. I said HOW not IF," Jackson said getting frustrated again.

"I'll… there's… there's a computer database. Only workers at the White House can access. They have schedules on there. I can look up Keefe for you. From my computer. Downstairs. In the office."

"Great. Gentlemen, be so kind as to escort Sasha downstairs. I've got Bryan."

Alex, Joe, and Sasha went down first. Bryan followed after and Jackson was last. Once at the bottom of the stairs, Sasha told Alex and Joe where to go to find the office. Everyone followed in and Jackson locked the door behind him.

"Okay Bryan, do your business."

"Can you please let me go now? I just came back because I forgot my lesson plans!" Sasha said, still trying to get out of the two men's grasp.

Nobody said anything.

Bryan sat down in the computer chair and opened internet explorer. He typed in a web address and quickly made the page full screen so that Jackson couldn't see or remember the address. Once the page loaded, all Jackson could see was a plain white page. It was nothing special, except for the username and password box centered in the middle of the screen. Bryan entered 'bgreenley' as his username and a series of numbers and letters for his password. He clicked enter and suddenly an official White House page was displayed on the screen. Bryan proceeded to click 'Schedules' and then, he chose 'Charles Keefe' from a huge list of names and political figures. He scanned the screen for Charles Keefe's schedule for the current week.

"Keefe's staying at the Lux Atlantic Hotel in Miami. With his family."

_Lux Atlantic. Miami._

Jackson's face lit up as he remembered the conversation he had with Sandra on the airplane about it being under new management. But, what was the woman's name?

"Does it say who owns the Lux Atlantic?"

"Yeah. New management. Contact Lisa Reisert."

_Lisa Reisert. Bingo._

"Well, Bryan. You've done good."

"You know you're just going to get caught anyway, Jackson. This is pretty damn stupid of you."

"You want to know how much I care about what you think, Bryan? Do you?"

Jackson turned around and walked over to Sasha. He grasped his hand around her neck, shoving her hard into the wall. He just looked at her, with the fear in her eyes.

"Jackson! Let go of me!" she shouted.

But, her scream was soon muted out by the collision of their lips, as Jackson gave her one harshly deep kiss. He let his hands slide off her neck and threw her again against the wall. Alex and Joe grabbed a hold of her again.

"THAT is how much I care," Jackson said, answering his own question, as he returned to look at Bryan.

"AND YOU WONDER WHY I DON'T LIKE YOU!" Sasha shouted at him. "You're always so possessive over the things you want and can't have, just like you were to me! I still have the scars on my back! You think I don't remember!"

Jackson just pretended to filter out Sasha's voice and ignored her. But really, he did remember exactly what Sasha was talking about and winced at the thought of the abuse he caused her 18 years ago. Bryan just stared at Jackson in stunned silence for kissing his wife. Jackson unlocked the door and walked out. He signaled for Joe and Alex to follow him and let go of Sasha. The 3 men followed Jackson into the kitchen as he grabbed his computer bag and put the gun back into his pocket where Bryan's gun currently was. They started heading for the front door when Bryan stepped into their path with a phone in his hand.

"And what exactly are you planning on doing, Bryan?" Jackson asked, crossing his arms.

"If you take one step out of this house, I'll call and report you to authorities."

"So, let me get this straight. Upstairs, you're threatening me at gun point to get me out of your house. Now, you're threatening to call the authorities, if I leave. What is it that you want me to do?"

"I have no idea what you're planning with that information, Jackson. But, I know you're up to no good. I'm not going to let you get away with this."

"Oh really? Well, I don't think you have a choice. Seeing as, if you call the authorities claiming that I'm planning to do something to Mr. Keefe, you've basically assisted me in the situation giving me information on his whereabouts and you're just as much in trouble, as I am, if not more, considering nothing's happened yet. Not to mention, you'll definitely lose your job once the White House finds out. Do you see where I'm going with this?"

Bryan just stood there staring at Jackson. He knew that he'd been beaten and he hated the feeling. He clicked the off button on the phone, as the 3 men busted past him smirking and laughing. They opened the front door, as Joe and Alex walked out. Jackson stopped to turn around to look at Bryan and quickly shut the door behind him.

The 3 men walked off down the driveway. Once outside the iron gates, they stopped for a minute and all gave each other handshakes for a job well done.

"How exactly are we getting out of here?" Jackson asked.

"Already taken care of," Alex answered. "Our truck is parked right over there in the woods. We had to hide it when we got here."

"Gotcha. Well, what are we doing standing here?" Jackson said. "Let's get the hell out of here."

They walked off into the woods to get to the hidden truck. Jackson threw both revolvers and the key to the safe into the woods to dispose of them.

"I won't be needing these. Not with 2 more airport security checks to go through," he thought to himself.

The sun was just beginning to set in the mountains. He could see the glimpse of sunlight shining in between the tree trunks. Within 12 hours, Jackson had accomplished what he couldn't have even imagined that morning. Now, he had every single bit of information he needed to complete case 29847. But his success, lied within the soul of one single person.

_Lisa Reisert._

From here on, the adventure was only just beginning for Jackson Rippner and his fate… soon, to be discovered.


End file.
